 Section 5 of My First Summer in the Sierra. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. My First Summer in the Sierra by John Muir. Read by Adrian Pretzelis. July 1. Summer is ripe. The flocks of seeds are already out of their cups and pods, seeking their predestined places. Some will strike root and grout beside their parents. Others, flying on the wings of the wind, far from them, among strangers. Most of the young birds are full-feathered and out of their nests, though still looked after by both father and mother, protected and fed, and to some extent educated. How beautiful the home life of birds! No wonder we all love them! I like to watch the squirrels. There are two species here, the large California gray and the Douglas. The latter is the brightest of all the squirrels I have ever seen. A hot spark of life, making every tree tingle with his prickly toes. A condensed nugget of fresh mountain vigour and valour, as free from disease as a sunbeam. One cannot think of such an animal ever being weary or sick. He seems to think the mountains belong to him, and at first tried to drive away the whole flock of sheep, as well as the shepherd and dogs. Now he scolds, and what faces he makes, all eyes, teeth and whiskers. If not so comically small, he would indeed be a dreadful fellow. I should like to know more about his bringing up, his life in the home not whole, as well as in the treetops, throughout all the seasons. Strange that I have not yet found a nest full of young ones. The Douglas is nearly allied to the red squirrel of the Atlantic slope, and may have been distributed to this side of the continent by way of the great unbroken forests of the north. The California Gray is one of the most beautiful, and next to the Douglas the most interesting of our hairy neighbours. Compared with the Douglas he is twice as large, but far less lively and influential as a worker in the woods, and he manages to make his way through the leaves and branches with less stir than his small brother. I have never heard him bark at anything except our dogs. When in search of food he glides silently from branch to branch, examining last year's cones to see whether some few seeds may not be left between the scales, or gleaned fallen ones among the leaves on the ground, since none of the present season's crop is yet available. His tail floats now behind him, now above him, level or gracefully curved like a wisp of cirrus cloud, every hair in its place, clean and shining and radiant as thistle down in spite of rough, gummy work. His whole body seems about as unsubstantial as his tail. The little Douglas is fiery, peppery, full of brag and fight and show, with movement so quick and keen they almost sting the onlooker, and the harlequin gyrating show he makes of himself turns one giddy to see. The grey is shy, and often times stealthy in his movements, as if half expecting an enemy in every tree and bush and back of every log, wishing only to be let alone apparently, and manifesting no desire to be seen or admired or feared. The Indians hunt this species for food, a good cause for caution, not to mention other enemies—porks, snakes, wildcats. In woods where food is abundant they wear paths through the sheltering thickets and over prostrate trees to some favourite pool, where in hot and dry weather they drink at nearly the same hour every day. These pools are said to be narrowly watched, especially by the boys, who lie and ambush with bow and arrow and kill without noise. But in spite of enemies, squirrels are happy fellows, forest favourites, types of tireless life. Of all nature's wild beasts, they seem to me the wildest. May we come to know each other better. The chaperral hill slope to the south of the camp, besides furnishing nesting places for countless merry-birds, is the home and hiding place of the curious wood rat, Neotoma. A handsome, interesting animal always attracting attention wherever seen. It is more like a squirrel than a rat, is much larger, has delicate, thick, soft fur of a bluish slate colour, white on the belly, ears large, thin and translucent, eyes soft, full and liquid, claws slender, sharp as needles, and his limbs are strong, he can climb about as well as a squirrel. No rat or squirrel has so innocent a look, is so easily approached, or expresses such confidence in one's good intentions. He seems too fine for the thorny thickets he inhabits, and his heart also is as unlike himself as may be, though softly furnished inside. No other animal inhabitant of these mountains builds houses so large and striking in appearance. The traveller, coming suddenly upon a group of them for the first time, will not be likely to forget them. They are built of all kinds of sticks, old rotten pieces picked up everywhere, and green prickly twigs bitten from the nearest bushes, the whole mixed with miscellaneous odds and ends of everything moveable, such as bits of cloudy earth, stones, bones, deer horn, etc., piled up in a conical mass as if it were got ready for burning. Some of these curious cabins are six feet high and as wide at the base, and a dozen or more of them are occasionally grouped together, less perhaps for the sake of society than for advantages of food and shelter. Coming through the dense shaggy thickets of some lonely hillside, the solitary explorer happening into one of these strange villages is startled at the sight and may fancy himself in an Indian settlement and begin to wonder what kind of reception he is likely to get. But no savage face will he see, perhaps not a single inhabitant, or at most two or three seated on top of their wig-mams looking at the stranger with the mildest of wild eyes and allowing a near approach. In the centre of the rough spiky hut, a soft nest is made of the inner fibres of bark chewed to tow and lined with feathers and the down of various seeds, such as willow and milkweed. The delicate creature in its prickly thick walled home suggests a tender flower in a thorny involucra. Some of the nests are built in trees 30 or 40 feet from the ground and even in garrets, as if seeking the company and protection of man like swallows and linets, though accustomed to the wildest solitude. Among housekeepers, Neotoma has the reputation of a thief because he carries away everything transportable to his queer hut, knives, forks, combs, nails, tin cups, spectacles, etc. Merely however to strengthen his fortifications, I guess. His food at home, as far as I have learned, is nearly the same as that of the squirrels, nuts, berries, seeds and sometimes the bark and tender shoots of the various species of seanothus. July 2 Warm sunny day, thrilling plants and animals and rocks alike, making sap and blood flow fast and making every particle of the crystal mountains throb and swirl and dance in glide accord like stardust. No dullness anywhere, visible or thinkable, no stagnation, no death, everything kept in joyful rhythmic motion in the pulses of nature's big heart. Pearl cumuli over the higher mountains, clouds not with a silver lining, but all silver. The brightest, crispest, rockiest looking clouds, most varied in features and keenest in outline I ever saw at any time of year in any country. The daily building and unbuilding of these snowy cloud ranges, the highest Sierra, is a prime marvel to me and I gaze at the stupendous white domes miles high with ever-fresh admiration. But in the midst of these sky and mountain affairs a change of diet is pulling us down. We have been out of bread a few days and begin to miss it more than seems reasonable for we have plenty of meat and sugar and tea. Strange we should feel food-poor in so richer wilderness. The Indians put us to shame, so do the squirrels. Starchy roots and seeds and bark in abundance yet the failure of the meal sack disturbs our bodily balance and threatens our best enjoyments. July 3 Warm Breeze just enough to sift through the woods and waft fragrance from their thousand fountains. The pine and fir cones are growing well, resin and balsam dripping from every tree and seeds are ripening fast, promising a fine harvest. The squirrels will have bread. They eat all kinds of nuts long before they are ripe and yet never seem to suffer in stomach. July 4 The air beyond the flock range full of the essences of the woods is growing sweeter and more fragrant from day to day like ripening fruit. Mr. Delaney is expected to arrive soon from the lowlands with a new stock of provisions and as the flock is to be moved to fresh pastures we shall all be well fed. In the meantime our stock of beans as well as flour has failed everything but mutton, sugar and tea. The shepherd is somewhat demoralised and seems to care but little for what becomes of his flock. He says that since the boss has failed to feed him he is not rightly bound to feed the sheep and swears that no decent white man can climb these steep mountains on mutton alone. It's not fitting grub for a white man, really, white. For dogs and coyotes and Indians it's different. Good grub, good sheep, that's what I say. Such was Billy's Fourth of July oration. July 5 The clouds of moon on the high Sierra seem yet more marvelously indescribably beautiful from day to day as one becomes more wakeful to see them. The smoke of the gunpowder burned yesterday on the lowlands and the eloquence of the orators has probably settled or been blown away by this time. Here every day is a holiday a jubilee ever sounding with serene enthusiasm without wear or waist or cloying weariness everything rejoicing not a single sail or crystal unvisited or forgotten. July 6 Mr. Delaney has not arrived and the bread famine is sore. We must eat mutton a while longer though it seems hard to get accustomed to it. I've heard of Texas pioneers living without bread or anything made from the cereals for months without suffering using the breast meat of wild turkeys for bread. Of this kind they had plenty in the good old days when life, though considered less safe, was fussed over the less. The trappers and fur traders of the early days in the Rocky Mountain regions lived on bison and beaver meat for months. Salmon eaters too there were among both Indians and whites who seemed to suffer little or not at all from the want of bread. Just at this moment mutton seems the least desirable of food though of good quality. We pick out the leanest bits and down they go against heavy disgust, causing nausea and an effort to reject the offensive stuff. Tea makes matters worse if possible. The stomach begins to assert itself as an independent creature with a will of its own. We should boil lupin leaves, clover, starchy petioles and saxophrage rootstocks like the Indians. We try to ignore our gastric troubles, rise and gaze about us, turn our eyes to the mountains and climb doggedly up through brush and rocks into the heart of the scenery. A stifled calm comes on and the day's duties and even enjoyments are languidly got through with. We chew a few leaves of cyanothus by way of luncheon and smell or chew the spicy monadella for the dull headache and stomach ache that now lightens now comes a muffling down upon us and into us like fog. At night more mutton, flesh to flesh, down with it, not too much and there are the stars shining through the cedar plumes and branches above our beds. July 7 Rather weak and sickish this morning and all about a piece of bread can scarce command attention to my best studies as if one couldn't take a few days' saunter in the godful woods without maintaining a base on a wheat field and a grist mill. Like caged parrots we want a cracker, any of the hundred kinds, the remainder biscuit of a voyage around the world would answer well enough nor would the wholesomeness of celeritus biscuit be questioned. Bread without flesh is a good diet as on many botanical excursions I have proved. Tea also may be ignored. Just bread and water and delightful toil is all I need. Not unreasonably much yet one ought to be trained and tempered to enjoy life in these brave woods in full independence of any particular kind of nourishment. That this may be accomplished is manifest as far as bodily welfare is concerned in the lives of people of other climes. The Eskimo, for example, gets a living far north of the wheat line from oily seals and whales. Meat, berries, bitter weeds and blubber or only the last for months at a time and yet these people, all around the frozen stores of our continent are said to be hearty, jolly, stout and brave. We hear two of fish-eaters, coniferous as spiders, yet well enough as far as stomachs are concerned while we are so ridiculously helpless making rye faces over our fair looking sheepish in digestive distress amid rumbling, grumbling sounds that might well pass for smothered bars. We have a large supply of sugar and this evening it occurred to me that these belligerent stomachs might possibly, like complaining children, be coaxed with candy. Accordingly the frying pan was cleansed and a lot of sugar cooked in it to a sort of wax but this stuff only makes matters worse. Man seems to be the only animal whose food soils him, making necessary much washing and shield-like bibs and napkins. Moles living in the earth and eating slimy worms are yet as clean as seals or fishes whose lives are one perpetual wash and yet as we have seen the squirrels in these resiny woods keep themselves clean in some mysterious way. Not a hair is sticky though they handle the gummy cones and glide about apparently without care. The birds too are clean though they seem to make a good deal of fuss washing and cleaning their feathers. Certain flies and ants I see are in a fix, entangled and sealed up in the sugar wax we throw away like some of their ancestors in amber. Our stomachs like tired muscles are sore with long squirming. Once I was very hungry in the Bonaventure graveyard in Savannah, Georgia having fasted for several days then the empty stomach seemed to chafe in much the same way as now and a somewhat similar tenderness and aching was produced. Hard to bear, though the pain was not acute. We dream of bread a sure sign we need it. Like the Indians we ought to know how to get starch out of fern and saxifrage stalks, lily bulbs, pine bark, etc. Our education has been sadly neglected for many generations. Wild rice would be good. I noticed a leacier in wet meadow edges but the seeds are small. Acorns are not ripe nor pine nuts nor filbots. The inner bark of pine or spruce might be tried drank tea till half intoxicated. Man seems to crave a stimulant when anything extraordinary is going on and this is the only one I use. Billy chews great quantities of tobacco which I suppose helps to stupefy and moderate his misery. We look and listen for the dawn every hour how beautiful upon the mountains his big feet would be. In the warm hospitable Sierra shepherds and mountain men in general as far as I have seen are easily satisfied as to food supplies and bedding. Most of them are heartily content to rough it, ignoring nature's fineness as bothersome or unmanly. The shepherd's bed is often only the bare ground and a pair of blankets with a stone or a piece of wood or a pack saddle for a pillow. In choosing the spot he shows less care than the dogs or they usually deliberate before making up their minds in so important an affair going from place to place scraping away loose sticks and pebbles and trying for comfort by making many changes while the shepherd casts himself down anywhere seemingly the least skilled of all rest seekers. His food too even when he has all he wants is usually far from delicate either in kind or cooking Beans, bread of any sort bacon, mutton, dried peaches and sometimes potatoes and onions make up his bill of fare. The two latter articles being regarded as luxuries on account of their weight as compared with the nourishment they contain. A half sack or so of each may be put into the pack in setting out from the home ranch and in a few days they are done. Beans are the main standby portable, wholesome and capable of going far besides being easily cooked though curiously enough a great deal of mystery is supposed to lie about the bean-pot. No two cooks quite agree on the methods of making beans do their best and after petting and coaxing and nursing the savoury mess well-oiled and mellowed with bacon boiled into the heart of it the proud cook will ask after dishing out a quarter or two for trial well, how do you like my beans? As if by no possibility could they be like any other beans cooked in the same way but must-needs possess some special virtue of which heat alone is master. Malasses, sugar or pepper may be used to give desired flavours or the first water may be poured off and a spoonful or two of ashes or soda added to dissolve or soften the skins more fully according to various tastes and notions. But, like castes of wine no two pot-fills are exactly alike to every palette. Some are supposed to be spoiled by the moon by some unlucky day by the beans having been grown on soil not suitable or the whole year maybe to blame as not favourable for beans. Coffee too has its marbles in the camp kitchen but not so many and not so inscrutable as those that beset the bean-pot. A low complacent grunt follows a mouthful drawn in with a gurgle and the remark cast forth aimlessly that's good coffee. Then another gurgling sip and repetition of the judgement yes sir, that is good coffee. As to tea, there are but two kinds weak and strong the stronger the better the only remark heard is that tea's weak otherwise it is good enough and not worth mentioning. If it has been boiled an hour or two or smoked on a pitchy fire no matter who cares for a little tannin or creosote they make the black beverage all the stronger and more attractive to tobacco tanned palates. Sheep campbread, like most California campbread is baked in Dutch ovens some of it in the form of used powder biscuit an unwholesome sticky compound leading straight to dyspepsia. The greater part however is fermented with sour dough a handful from each batch being saved and put away in the mouth of the flour sack to inoculate the next. The oven is simply a cast-iron pot about five inches deep and from 12 to 18 inches wide. After the batch has been mixed and needed in a tin pan the oven is slightly heated and rubbed with a piece of tallow or pork rind. The dough is then placed in it pressed out against the sides and left to rise. When ready for baking a shovelful of coals is spread out by the side of the fire and the oven set upon them which is raised from time to time to see that the requisite amount of heat is being kept up. With care good bread may be made in this way though it is liable to be burned or to be sour or raised too much and the weight of the oven is a serious objection. At last Don Delaney comes Dundalang Glen hunger vanishes we turn our eyes to the mountains and tomorrow we go climbing towards Cloudland Never, while anything is left of me shall this first camp be forgotten. It has fairly grown into me not merely as memory pictures but as part and parcel of mind and body alike the deep hopper-like hollow with its majestic trees through which all the wonderful nights the stars poured their beauty the flowery wilderness of the high steep slope towards Browns Flat and its bloom fragrance descending at the close of the still days the empowered river reaches with their multitude of voices making melody the stately flow and rush and glad exulting unsweeping currents caressing their dipping sedge leaves and bushes and mossy stones swirling in pools dividing against little flowery islands the flowery wildness of the high steep slope towards Browns Flat and its bloom fragrance descending at the close of the still days the empowered river reaches with their multitude of voices making melody the stately flow and rush and glad exulting unsweeping currents caressing the dipping sedge leaves and bushes and mossy stones swirling in pools dividing against little flowery islands breaking grey and white here and there ever rejoicing yet with deep solemn undertones recalling the ocean the brave little bird ever beside them singing with sweet human tones among the waltzing foam bells and like a blessed evangel explaining God's love and the pilot peak ridge its long withdrawing slopes gracefully modelled and braided reaching from climate to climate feathered with trees that are the kings of their race their ranks nobly marshaled to view spire above spire crown above crown waving their long leafy arms tossing their cones like ringing bells blessed sun-fed mountaineers rejoicing in their strength every tree tuneful a harp for the winds and the sun the hazel and buckthorn pastures of the deer the sun-beaten brows purple and yellow with mint and golden rods carpeted with camibatia humming with bees and the dawns and sunrises and sundowns of these mountain days the rose-light creeping higher among the stars reaching to daffodil yellow the level beams bursting forth streaming across the ridges touching pine after pine awakening and warming all the mighty host to do gladly their shining days work the great sun-gold noons the alabaster cloud mountains the landscape beaming with consciousness like the face of a god the sun sets and the trees stood hushed awaiting their goodnight blessings divine enduring unwasteable wealth July 8 now away we go toward the topmost mountains many still small voices as well as the noon thunder are calling come higher farewell blessed dale woods, gardens streams, birds squirrels, lizards and a thousand others farewell, farewell up through the woods the hoofed locusts streamed beneath the cloud of brown dust scarcely were they driven a hundred yards from the old corral ere they seemed to know that at last they were going to new pastures and rushed wildly ahead crowding through gaps in the brush jumping, tumbling like exulting, harrowing flood-waters escaping through a broken dam a man on each flank kept shouting advice to the leaders who, in their famishing condition were behaving like gathering swine two other drivers were busy with stragglers helping them out of brush-tangles the indian, calm, alert silently watched for wanderers likely to be overlooked the two dogs ran here and there at a loss to know what was best to be done while the don, soon far in the rear was trying to keep in sight of his troublesome wealth as soon as the boundary of the old eaten-out range was passed the hungry horde suddenly became calm like a mountain stream in a meadow thenceforth they were allowed to eat their way as slowly as they wished care being taken only to keep them headed toward the summit of the messaed and twangly divide soon the two thousand flattened porches were bulged out with sweet pea vines and grass and the gaunt desperate creatures more like wolves than sheep became bland and governable while the howling drivers changed to gentle shepherds and sauntered in peace towards sundown we reached hazel green a charming spot on the summit of the dividing ridge between the basins of the messaed and twangly where there is a small brook flowing through hazel and dogwood thickets beneath magnificent silver ferns and pines here we are camped for the night our big fire, heaped high with rosiny logs and branches is blazing like a sunrise gladly giving back the light slowly sifted from the sunbeams of centuries of summers and in the glow of that old sunlight how impressively surrounding objects are brought forward in relief against the outer darkness grasses, larks, burrs, columbines, lilies, hazel bushes and the great trees form a circle around the fire like thoughtful spectators gazing and listening with human-like enthusiasm the night breezes cool for all day we have been climbing into the upper sky the home of the cloud mountains we so long have admired how sweet and keen the air every breath a blessing here the sugar pine reaches its fullest development in size and beauty and numbers of individuals filling every swell and hollow and down-plunging ravine almost to the exclusion of other species a few yellow pines are still to be found as companions and in the coolest places silver furs but noble as these are the sugar pine is king and spreads long protecting arms above them while they rock and wave in sign of recognition we have now reached the height of 6000 feet in the forenoon we passed along a flat part of the dividing ridge that is planted with manzanita, arctostaphilus some specimens the largest I have seen I measured one the bowl of which is four feet in diameter and only 18 inches high from the ground where it dissolves into many wide spreading branches forming a broad round head about 10 or 12 feet high covered with clusters of small narrow-throated pink bells the leaves are pale green, glandular and set on edge by a twist of the petiole the branches seem naked for the chocolate-covered bark is very smooth and thin and is shed off in flakes that curl when dry the wood is red, close-grained, hard and heavy I wonder how old these curious tree bushes are probably as old as the great pines Indians and bears and birds and fat grubs feast on the berries which look like small apples often rosy on one side, green on the other the Indians are said to make a kind of beer or cider out of them there are many species this one, arctostaphilus pungens, is common hereabouts no need have they to fear the wind for low they are and steadfastly rooted even the fires that sweep the woods seldom destroy them utterly for they rise up from the root and some of the dry ridges they grow on are seldom touched by fire I must try to know them better I miss my river songs tonight here Hazel Creek at its topmost springs has a voice like a bird the wind tones in the great trees overhead are strangely impressive all the more because not a leaf stirs below them but it grows late and I must to bed the camp is silent everybody asleep it seems extravagant to spend hours so precious in sleep he giveth his beloved sleep pity the poor beloved needs it weak weary for spent all the pity of it to sleep in the midst of eternal beautiful motion instead of gazing forever like the stars End of Section 5 Section 6 of My First Summer in the Sierra this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org My First Summer in the Sierra by John Muir read by Adrian Pretzelis July 9 Exhilarated with the mountain air I feel like shouting this morning with excess of wild animal joy The Indian lay down away from the fire last night without blankets having nothing on by way of clothing but a pair of blue overalls and a calico shirt wet with sweat the night air is chilly at this elevation and we gave him some horse blankets but he didn't seem to care for them a fine thing to be independent of clothing where it is so hard to carry where food is scarce he can live on whatever comes in his way a few berries, roots, birds eggs grasshoppers, black ants fat wasp or bumblebee larvae without feeling that he is doing anything worth mentioning so I have been told our course today was along the broad top of the main ridge to a hollow beyond Crane Flat it is scarce at all rocky and is covered with the noblest pines and spruces I have yet seen sugar pines from six to eight feet in diameter are not uncommon with a height of two hundred feet or even more the silver furs, Abbey's Conkola and Abbey's Magnifica are exceedingly beautiful especially the Magnifica which becomes more abundant the higher we go it is of great size one of the most notable in every way of the giant conifers of the Sierra I saw specimens that measured seven feet in diameter and over two hundred feet in height while the average size for what might be called full grown mature trees can hardly be less than one hundred and eighty or two hundred feet high and five or six feet in diameter and with these noble dimensions there is a symmetry and perfection of finish not to be seen in any other tree here about at least the branches are world in fives mostly and stand out from the tall, straight, exquisitely tapered bowl in level colors each branch regularly pinnated like the fronds of ferns and densely clad with leaves all around the branchlets thus giving them a singularly rich and sumptuous appearance the extreme top of the tree is a thick blunt chute pointing straight to the zenith like an admonishing finger the cones stand erect like casks on the upper branches they are about six inches long three in diameter, blunt, velvety and cylindrical in form and very rich and precious looking the seeds are about three-quarters of an inch long dark reddish-brown with brilliant iridescent purple wings and when ripe the cone falls to pieces and the seeds, thus set free at a height of one hundred and fifty or two hundred feet have a good send-off and may fly considerable distances in a good breeze and it is when a good breeze is blowing that most of them are shaken free to fly the other species, Abbey's Conkula attains nearly as great a height and thickness as the Magnifica but the branches do not form such regular worlds nor are they so exactly pinnated or richly leafclad instead of growing all around the branchlets the leaves are mostly arranged in two flat horizontal rows the cones and seeds are like those of the Magnifica in form but less than half as large the bark of the Magnifica is reddish-purple and closely furrowed that of the Conkula, grey and widely furrowed and noble pair at Crane Flat we climbed a thousand feet or more in the distance of about two miles the forest growing more dense and the silvery Magnifica fur forming a still greater portion of the whole Crane Flat is a meadow with a wide, sandy border lying on the top of the divide it is often visited by blue cranes to rest and feed on their long journeys hence the name it is about half a mile long draining into the Mesed sedgey in the middle with a margin bright with lilies columbines, lakspers, lupins, castilia then an outer zone of dry, gently sloping ground starred with a multitude of small flowers euninus, mimulas, gilia with rosettes of spragula and tufts of several species of erugonum and the brilliant zaucinaria the noble forest wall about it is made up of the two silver furs and the yellow and sugar pines which here seem to reach their highest pitch of beauty and grandeur for the elevation, six thousand feet or a little more is not too great for the sugar and yellow pines or too low for the Magnifica fur while the Conkula seems to find this elevation the best possible about a mile from the north end of the flat there is a grove of sequoia gigantia the king of all the conifers furthermore the Douglas spruce pseudosuka Douglasae and libocedrus dekorans and a few two-leafed pines occur here and there forming a small part of the forest three pines, two silver furs one Douglas spruce, one sequoia all of them except the two-leafed pine colossal trees are found here together an assemblage of conifers unrivaled on the globe we passed a number of charming garden-like meadows lying on top of the divide or hanging like ribbons down its sides embedded in the glorious forest some are taken up chiefly with the tall white-flowered veritrim californicum with boat-shaped leaves about a foot long eight or ten inches wide and veined like those of Cypropendium a robust, hearty, lilicacious plant fond of water and determined to be seen Columbine and Luxper grow on the drier edges of the meadows with a tall, handsome lupin standing waist-deep in long grasses and sedges Castiliers, too, of several species make a bright show with lots of violets at their feet but the glory of these forest meadows is a lily El Parvam the tallest are from seven to eight feet high with magnificent racemes of ten to twenty or more small, orange-coloured flowers they stand out free and open ground with just enough grass and other companion plants about them to fringe their feet off to best advantage this is a grand addition to my lily acquaintances a true mountaineer reaching prime vigor and beauty at a height of seven thousand feet or thereabouts it varies, I find, very much in size even in the same meadow not only with the soil but with age I saw a specimen that had only one flower another within a stone's throw had twenty-five and to think that the sheep should be allowed in those lily meadows after how many centuries of nature's care planting and watering them tucking the bulbs in snugly below the winter frost shading the tender shoots with clouds drawn above them like curtains pouring, refreshing rain making them perfect in beauty and keeping them safe by a thousand miracles yet, strange to say allowing the trampling of devastating sheep one might reasonably look for a wall of fire to fence such gardens so extravagant is nature with her choices treasures spending plant beauty as she spends sunshine pouring it forth into land and sea garden and desert and so the beauty of lilies falls on angels and men bears and squirrels, wolves and sheep birds and bees but as far as I have seen man alone and the animals he tames destroy these gardens awkward lumbering bears the Don tells me love to wallow in them in hot weather and deer with their sharp feet cross them again and again sauntering and feeding yet never a lily have I seen spoiled by them rather like gardeners they seem to cultivate them pressing and dibbling as required anyhow not a leaf or petal seems misplaced the trees round about them seem as perfect in beauty and form as the lilies their boughs whirl like lily leaves in exact order this evening as usual the glow of our campfire is working enchantment on everything within reach of its rays line beneath the furs it is glorious to see them dipping their spires in the starry night the sky like one vast lily meadow in bloom how can I close my eyes on so precious a night July 10 a Douglas squirrel peppery pungent autocrat of the woods is barking overhead this morning and the small forest birds so seldom seen when one travels noisily are out on sunny branches along the edge of the meadow getting warm taking a sun bath and a dew bath a fine sight how charming the sprightly confident looks and ways of these little feathered people of the trees they seem sure of dainty, wholesome breakfasts and where are so many breakfasts to come from how helpless should we find ourselves should we try to set a table for them of such buds, seeds, insects etc as would keep them in the pure, wild health they enjoy not a headache or any other ache amongst them I guess as for the irrepressible Douglas squirrels one never thinks of their breakfasts or the possibility of hunger, sickness or death rather they seem like stars above chance or change even though we may see them at times busy gathering birds working hard for a living on through the forest ever higher we go a cloud of dust dimming the way thousands of feet trampling leaves and flowers but in this mighty wilderness they seem but a feeble band and a thousand gardens will escape their blighting touch they cannot hurt the trees though some of the seedlings suffer and should the woolly locusts be greatly multiplied as on account of dollar value they are likely to be then the forests too may in time be destroyed only the sky will then be safe though hid from view by dust and smoke incense of a bad sacrifice poor helpless hungry sheep in a great part misbegotten without good right to be semi-manufactured less made by God than man born out of time and place yet their voices are strangely human and call out one's pity our way is still along the masseur and twalmy divide the streams on our right going to swell the songful Yosemite river those on our left to the songful twalmy slipping through sunny caracks and lily meadows and breaking into song down a thousand ravines almost as soon as they are born a more tuneful set of streams surely nowhere exists all more sparkling crystal pure now gliding with tinkling whisper now with merry dimpling rush in and out through sunshine and shade shimmering in pools uniting their currents bouncing dancing from form to form over cliffs and inclines ever more beautiful the farther they go until they pour into the main glacial rivers all day I have been gazing in growing admiration at the noble groups of the magnificent silver fir which is more and more taking the ground to itself the woods above Crane Flat still continue comparatively open letting in the sunshine on the brown needle-strewn ground not only are the individual trees admirable in symmetry and superb in foliage and port but half a dozen or more often form temple groves in which the trees are so nicely graded in size and position as to seem one here indeed is the tree lovers paradise the dullest eye in the world must surely be quickened by such trees as these fortunately the sheep need little attention as they are driven slowly and allowed to nip and nibble as they like since leaving Hazel Green we have been following the Yosemite trail visitors to the famous valley coming by way of Coulterville and Chinese camp past this way the two trails uniting at Crane Flat and enter the valley on the north side another trail enters on the south side by way of the Mariposa the tourists we saw were in parties of from three or four to fifteen or twenty mounted on mules or small Mustang ponies a strange show they made winding single file through the solemn woods in gaudy attire scaring the wild creatures and one might fancy that even the great pines would be disturbed and grown aghast but what may we say of ourselves and the flock we are now camped at Tamarack Flat within four or five miles of the lower end of Yosemite here is another fine meadow embosomed in the woods with a deep clear stream gliding through it its banks rounded and beveled with a thatch of dipping sedges the flat is named after the two-leaved pine Pinus Contorta, variant Mariana common here, especially around the cool margin of the meadows on rocky ground it is a rough thick set tree about forty to sixty feet high and one to three feet in diameter bark, thin and gummy branches rather naked tassels, leaves and cones small but in damp, rich soil it grows close and slender and reaches a height at times of nearly a hundred feet specimens only six inches in diameter at the ground are often fifty or sixty feet in height a slender and sharp in outline as arrows like the true Tamarack Larch of the eastern states hence the name, though it is a pine July 11 the dawn has gone ahead on one of the pack animals to spy out the land to the north of Yosemite in search of the best point for a central camp much higher than this we cannot now go for the upper pastures said to be better than any hereabouts are still buried in heavy winter snow glad I am that camp is to be fixed in the Yosemite region for many a glorious ramble I'll have along the top of the walls and then what landscapes I shall find with their new mountains and canyons forests and gardens lakes and streams and falls we are now about seven thousand feet above the sea and the nights are so cool we have to pile coats and extra clothing on top of our blankets Tamarack Creek is icy cold delicious exhilarating champagne water it is flowing bank full in the meadow with silent speed but only a few hundred yards below our camp the ground is bare grey granite strewn with boulders large spaces being without a single tree are only a small one here and there anchored in narrow seams and cracks the boulders many of them very large are not in piles or scattered like rubbish among loose crumbling debris as if weathered out of the solid as boulders of disintegration they mostly occur singularly and are lying on a clean pavement on which the sunshine falls in a glare that contrasts with the shimmer of light and shade we have been accustomed to in the leafy woods and strange to say these boulders lying so still and deserted with no moving force near them no boulder carrier anywhere in sight were nevertheless brought from a distance as difference in colour and composition shows quarried and carried and laid down here each in its place nor have they stirred most of them through calm and storm since first they arrived they look lonely here strangers in a strange land huge blocks angular mountain chips the largest twenty or thirty feet in diameter the chips that nature has made modelling her landscapes fashioning the forms of her mountains and valleys and with what tool were they quarried and carried on the pavement we find its marks the most resisting unweathered portion of the surface is scored and striated in a rigidly parallel way indicating that the region has been over swept by a glacier from the north eastward grinding down the general mass of the mountains scoring and polishing producing a strange, raw, wiped appearance and dropping whatever boulders it chance to be carrying at the time it was melted at the close of the glacial period a fine discovery this as for the forests we have been passing through they are probably growing on deposits of soil most of which has been laid down by the same ice agent in the form of moraines of different sorts now in great part disintegrated and outspread by post-glacial weathering out of the grassy mountain and down over this ice-plained granite runs the glad young Tamrat Creek rejoicing, exulting, chanting, dancing in white glowing, iris falls and cascades on its way to the Mercedes Canyon miles below Yosemite falling more than 3,000 feet in a distance of about two miles all the Mercedes streams are wonderful singers and Yosemite is the centre where the main tributaries meet from a point about half a mile from our camp we can see into the lower end of the famous valley with its wonderful cliffs and groves a grand page of mountain manuscript I would gladly give my life to be able to read how vast it seems how short human life when we happen to think of it and how little we may learn however hard we try yet why bewail our poor, inevitable ignorance some of the external beauty is always in sight enough to keep every fibre of us tingling and this we are able to gloriously enjoy though the methods of its creation may lie beyond our ken sing on brave Tamrat Creek fresh from your snowy fountains plash and swirl and dance to your fate in the sea bathing, cheering, every living thing along your way having greatly enjoyed all this huge day sauntering and seeing steeping in the mountain influences sketching, noting, pressing flowers drinking ozone and tamarack water found the white, fragrant Washington lily the finest of all the Sierra lilies its bulbs are buried in shaggy, chaparral tangles I suppose for safety from pouring bears magnificent panicles sway and rock over the top of the rough snow-pressed bushes while big, bold, blunt-nose bees drone and mumble in its polliny bells a lovely flower worth going hungry and foot sore endless miles to see the whole world seems richer now that I have found this plant in so noble a landscape a log-house serves to mark a claim to the Tamarack meadow which may become valuable as a station in case travel to Yosemite should greatly increase belated parties occasionally stop here a white man with an Indian woman is holding possession of the place sauntered up the meadow about sundown out of sight of camp and sheep and all human mark into the deep peace of the solemn old woods everything glowing with heaven's unquenchable enthusiasm July 12 the dawn has returned and again we go on pilgrimage looking over the Yosemite Creek country, he said from the tops of the hills you see nothing but rocks and patches of trees but when you go down into the rocky desert you find no end of small grassy banks and meadows and the country is not half so lean as it looks they will go and stay till the snow has melted from the upper country I was glad to hear that the high snow made a stay in the Yosemite region necessary for I am anxious to see as much of it as possible what fine times I shall have sketching, studying plants and rocks and scrambling about the brinks of the great valley alone, out of sight and sound of the camp we saw another party of Yosemite tourists today somehow most of these travelers seem to care but little for the glorious objects about them though enough to spend time and money and endure a long rise to see the famous valley and when they are fairly within the mighty walls of the temple and hear the psalms of the falls they will forget themselves and become devout blessed indeed should be every pilgrim in these holy mountains we moved slowly eastward along the Mono Trail and early in the afternoon unpacked and camped on the bank of Cascade Creek the Mono Trail crosses the range by the bloody canyon pass to gold mines near the north end of Mono Lake these mines were reported to be rich when first discovered and a grand rush took place making a trail necessary a few small bridges were built over streams where fording was not practicable on account of the softness of the bottom sections of fallen trees cut out and lanes made through thickets wide enough to allow the passage of bulky packs but over the greater part of the way scarce a stone or shovelful of earth has been moved the woods we passed through are composed almost wholly of Albee's Magnifica the companion species Conkula being mostly left behind on account of altitude while the increasing elevation seems grateful to the charming Magnifica no words can do anything like justice to this noble tree at one place many had fallen during some heavy windstorm owing to the loose sandy character of the soil which offered no secure anchorage the soil is mostly decomposed and disintegrated moraine material the sheep are lying down on a bare rocky spot such as they like chewing the card in grassy peace cooking is going on, appetites growing keena every day no lowlander can appreciate the mountain appetite and the facility with which heavy food called grub is disposed of eating, walking, resting seem alike delightful and one feels inclined to shout lustily on rising in the morning like a crowing cock sleep and digestion as clear as the air fine spicy plush boughs for bedding we shall have tonight and a glorious lullaby from this cascading creek never was stream more fittingly named for as far as I have traced above and below our camp it is one continuous bouncing dancing white boom of cascades and at the very last unwirried it finishes its wild course in a grand leap of 300 feet or more to the bottom of the main Yosemite canyon near the fall of Tamarack Creek a few miles below the foot of the valley these falls almost rival some of the far famed Yosemite falls never shall I forget these glad cascade songs the low booming the roaring the keen silvery clashing of the cool water rushing exultant from form to form beneath iris spray or in the deep still night seen white in the darkness and its multitude of voices sounding still more impressively sublime here I find the little water oozle as much at home as any linnet in a leafy grove seeming to take the greater delight the more boisterous the stream the dizzy precipices the swiftly dashing energy displayed and the thunder tones of the sheer falls are awe inspiring but there is nothing awful about this little bird its song is sweet and low and all its gestures as it flits about amid the loud uproar we speak strength and peace and joy contemplating these darlings of nature coming forth from spray sprinkled nests at the brink of savage streams Samson's riddle comes to mind out of the strong cometh forth sweetness a yet finer bloom is this little bird than the foam bells in eddying pools gentle bird a precious message you bring me we may miss the meaning of the torrent but thy sweet voice only love is in it July 13 our course all day has been eastward over the rim of Yosemite Creek Basin and down about half way to the bottom where we have encamped on a sheet of glacier polished granite a firm foundation for beds saw the tracks of a very large bear on the trail and the don talked of bears in general I said I should like to see the maker of these immense tracks as he marched along and follow him for days without disturbing him to learn something of the life of this master beast of the wilderness lambs the don told me born in the lowland never saw or heard a bear snort and run in terror when they catch the scent showing how fully they have inherited a knowledge of their enemy hogs mules horses and cattle are afraid of bears and are seized with ungovernable terror when they approach particularly hogs and mules hogs are frequently driven to pastures in the foothills of the coast range in the area where acorns are abundant and are herded in droves of hundreds like sheep when a bear comes to the range they promptly leave it emigrating in a body usually in the night time the keepers being powerless to prevent they thus show more sense than sheep that simply scatter in the rocks and brush and await their fate mules flee like the wind with or without riders when they see a bear and if picketed sometimes break their necks in trying to break their ropes though I have not heard of bears killing mules or horses of hogs they are said to be particularly fond bolting small ones bones and all without choice of parts in particular Mr. Delaney assured me that all kinds of bears in the Sierra are very shy and that hunters found far greater difficulty in getting within gunshot of them than a deer or indeed any other animal in the Sierra and if I was anxious to see much of them I should have to wait and watch with endless Indian patience and pay no attention to anything else night is coming on the grey rock waves are growing dim in the twilight how raw and young this region appears had the ice sheet that swept over it vanished but yesterday its traces on the more resisting portions about our camp could hardly be more distinct than they are now the horses and sheep and all of us indeed slipped on the smoothest places End of Section 6 Section 7 of My First Summer in the Sierra This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org My First Summer in the Sierra by John Muir Read by Adrian Pretzelis July 14 How deathlike is sleep in this mountain air and quick the awakening into newness of life A calm dawn, yellow and purple then floods of sun gold making everything tingle and glow In an hour or two we came to Yosemite Creek the stream that makes the greatest of all the Yosemite Falls It is about 40 feet wide at the Mono Trail crossing and now about 4 feet in average depth flowing about 3 miles an hour The distance to the verge of the Yosemite Wall where it makes its tremendous plunge is only about 2 miles from here Calm, beautiful and nearly silent it glides with stately gestures a dense growth of the slender two-leaved pine along its bank and a fringe of willow, purple spirea sedges, daisies, lilies and columbines Some of the sedges and willow-bows dip into the current and just outside the close rank of trees there is a sunny flat of washed gravelly sand which seems to have been deposited by some ancient flood It is covered by millions of erythria and oxythica with more flowers than leaves forming an even growth slightly dimpled and ruffled here and there by rosettes of Spragua Umbilata Back of this flowery strip there is a wavy up-slooping plain of solid granite so smoothly ice-polished in many places that it glistens in the sun like glass In shallow hollows there are patches of trees mostly the rough form of the two-leaved pine rather scrawny looking where there is little or no soil Also a few junipers are sitting in talus, short and stout with bright, cinnamon-coloured bark and grey foliage standing alone mostly on the sun-beaten pavement safe from fire, clinging by slight joints a sturdy storm-enduring mountaineer of a tree living on sunshine and snow maintaining tough health on this diet for perhaps more than a thousand years Up towards ahead of the basin I see groups of domes rising above the wave-like ridges and some picturesque castellated masses and dark strips and patches of silver fur indicating deposits of fertile soil Would that I would command the time to study them What rich excursions one could make in this well-defined basin its glacial inscriptions and sculptures how marvellous they seem how noble the studies they offer I tremble with excitement in the dawn of these glorious mountain sublimities but I can only gaze and wonder and, like a child, gather here and there a lily half-hoping I may be able to study and learn in years to come The drivers and dogs had a lively, laborious time getting the sheep across the creek The second-large stream thus far they have been compelled to cross without a bridge the first being the North Fork of the Merced near Bower Cave Man and dogs, shouting and barking drove the timid, water-fearing creatures in a close crowd against the bank but not one of the flock would launch away While thus jammed the dawn and the shepherd rushed through the frightened crowd to stampede those in front but this would only cause a break backward and away they would scamper through the stream-bank trees and scatter over the rocky pavement Then, with the aid of the dogs the runaways would again be gathered and made to face the stream and again the compacted mass would break away amid wild shouting and barking that may well have disturbed the stream itself and marred the music of its falls to which visitors no doubt from all corners of the globe were listening Hold them there, now hold them there shouted the dawn the front ranks will soon tire of the pressure and be glad to take to the water then all will jump in and cross in a hurry but they did nothing of the kind they only avoided the pressure by breaking back in scores and hundreds leaving the beauty of the banks sadly trampled If only one could be got to cross over all would make haste to follow but that one could not be found a lamb was caught, carried across and tied to a bush on the opposite bank where it cried piteously for its mother but though greatly concerned the mother only called it back that play on maternal affection failed and we began to fear that we should be forced to make a long roundabout drive across the widespread tributaries of the creek in succession this would require several days but it had its advantages for I was eager to see the sources of so famous a stream Don Quixote however determined that they must ford just here and immediately began a sort of siege by cutting down slender pines on the bank and building a corral barely large enough to hold the flock went well pressed together the stream would form one side of the corral he believed that they could easily be forced into the water in a few hours the enclosure was completed and the silly animals were driven in and rammed hard against the brink of the ford then the Don forcing away through the compacted mass pitched a few of the terrified unfortunates into the stream by main strength but instead of crossing over they swam about close to the bank making desperate attempts to get back into the flock then a dozen or more were shoved off and the Don, tall like a crane and a good natural wader, jumped in after them seized a struggling weather and dragged it to the opposite shore but no sooner did he let it go than it jumped into the stream and swam back to its frightened companions in the corral thus manifesting sheep nature as unchangeable as gravitation Pan with his pipes would have no better luck I fear we were now pretty well baffled the silly creatures would suffer any sort of death rather than cross that stream Calling a council the dripping Don declared that starvation was now the only likely scheme to try and that we might as well camp here in comfort and let the besieged flock grow hungry and cool and come to their senses if they had any in a few minutes after thus being left alone an adventurer in the foremost rank plunged in and swam bravely to the farthest shore then suddenly all rushed in pale mail together trampling one another underwater while we vainly tried to hold them back the Don jumped into the thickest of the gasping gurgling, drowning mass and shoved them right and left as if each sheep was a piece of floating lumber the current also served to drift them apart a long bent column was soon formed and in a few minutes all were over and began buying and feeding as if nothing out of the common had happened that none were drowned seems wonderful I fully expected that hundreds would gain the romantic fate of being swept into Yosemite over the highest waterfall in the world as the day was far spent we camped a little way back from the Ford and let the dripping flock scatter and feed till sundown the whirl is dry now and calm card-tuing peace has fallen on all the comfortable band leaving no trace of the watery battle I have seen fish driven out of the water with lesser due than was made in driving these animals into it sheep-brain must surely be poor stuff compare today's exhibition with the performances of deer swimming quietly across broad and rapid rivers and from island to island in seas and lakes or with dogs or even with the squirrels that, as the story goes crossed the Mississippi River on selected chips with tails for sails comfortably trimmed to the breeze a sheep can hardly be called an animal an entire flock is required to make one foolish individual July 19 followed the monotrail up the eastern rim of the basin nearly to its summit then turned off southward to a small shallow valley that extends to the edge of the Yosemite and reached about noon and encamped after lunch I made haste to high ground and from the top of the ridge on the west side of Indian Canyon gained the noblest view of the summit peaks I have ever yet enjoyed nearly all the upper basin of the Merced was displayed with its sublime domes and canyons dark up-sweeping forests and glorious array of white peaks deep in the sky every feature glowing radiating beauty that pours into our flesh and bones like heat rays from fire sunshine over all no breath of wind to stir the brooding calm never before had I seen so glorious a landscape so boundless an affluence of sublime mountain beauty the most extravagant description I might give of this view to anyone who has not seen similar landscapes with his own eyes would not so much as hint its grandeur and the spiritual glow that covered it I shouted and gesticulated in a wild burst of ecstasy much to the astonishment of Saint Bernard Carlo who came running up to me manifesting in his intelligent eyes a puzzled concern that was very ludicrous which had the effect of bringing me to my senses a brown bear too it would seem had been a spectator of the show I had made of myself for I had gone but a few yards when I started one from a thicket of brush he evidently considered me dangerous for he ran away very fast tumbling over the tops of the tangled Manzanita bushes in his haste Carlo drew back with his ears depressed as if afraid and kept looking me in the face as if expecting me to pursue and shoot for he had seen many a bear battle in his day following the ridge which made a gradual descent to the south I came at length to the brow of that massive cliff that stands between Indian Canyon and Yusebadi Falls and here the far famed valley came suddenly into view throughout almost its whole extent the noble walls sculptured into endless varieties of domes and gables spires and battlements and plain mural precipices all a tremble with the thunder tones of the falling water the level bottom seemed to be dressed like a garden sunny meadows here and there and groves of pine and oak the river of mercy sweeping in majesty through the midst of them crashing back the sunbeams the great Tissac or half dome rising at the upper end of the valley to a height of nearly a mile is nobly proportioned and lifelike the most impressive of all the rocks holding the eye in devout admiration calling it back again and again from falls on meadows or even the mountains beyond marvellous cliffs marvellous and sheer dizzy depth and sculpture types of endurance thousands of years have they stood in the sky exposed to rain, snow, frost, earthquake and avalanche yet they still wear the blossom of youth I rambled along the valley rim to the westward most of it is rounded off on the very brink so that it is not easy to find places where one may look clear down the face of the wall to the bottom when such places were found and I had cautiously set my feet and drawn my body erect I could not help fearing a little that the rock might split off and let me down and what a down more than three thousand feet still my limbs did not tremble nor did I feel the least uncertainty as to the reliance to be placed on them my only fear was that a flake of the granite which in some places showed joints more or less open and running parallel with the face of the cliff might give way after withdrawing from such places excited with the view I had got I would say to myself now don't go out on the verge again but in the face of Yosemite scenery cautious remonstrance is vain under its spell one's body seems to go where it likes with a will over which we seem to have scarce any control after a mile or so of this memorable cliff work I approached Yosemite Creek admiring its easy, graceful, confident gestures as it comes bravely forward in its narrow channel singing the last of its mountain songs on its way to its fate a few rods more over the shining granite then down half a mile in snowy foam to another world to be lost in the messeed where climate, vegetation, inhabitants all are different emerging from its last gorge it glides in wide lace-like rapids down a small incline into a pool where it seems to rest and compose its grey agitated waters before taking the grand plunge then slowly slipping over the lip of the pool basin it descends another glossy slope with rapidly accelerated speed to the brink of the tremendous cliff and with sublime fateful confidence springs out free in the air I took off my shoes and stockings and worked my way cautiously down alongside the rushing flood keeping my feet and hands pressed firmly on the polished rock the booming, roaring water rushing past close to my head was very exciting I had expected that the sloping apron would terminate with the perpendicular wall of the valley and that from the foot of it where it is less steeply inclined I should be able to lean far enough out to see the forms and behaviour of the fall all the way down to the bottom but I found that there was yet another small brow over which I could not see and which appeared to be too steep for mortal feet scanning it keenly I discovered a narrow shelf about three inches wide on the very brink just wide enough for a rest for one's heels but there seemed to be no way of reaching it over so steep a brow at length after careful scrutiny of the surface I found an irregular edge of a flake of the rock some distance back from the margin of the torrent if I was to get down to the brink at all that rough edge which might offer slight finger holds was the only way but the slope beside it looked dangerously smooth and steep and the swift roaring flood beneath overhead and beside me was very nerve-trying I therefore concluded not to venture farther but did nevertheless Tufts of Artemisia were growing in clefts of the rock nearby and I filled my mouth with the bitter leaves hoping they might help to prevent giddiness then with a caution not known in ordinary circumstances I crept down safely to the little ledge got my heels well planted on it then shuffled in a horizontal direction twenty or thirty feet until close to the out plunging current which by the time it had descended thus far was already white here I obtained a perfectly free view down into the heart of the snowy chanting throng of comet-like streamers into which the body of the fall soon separates while perched on that narrow niche I was not distinctly conscious of danger the tremendous grandeur of the fall in form and sound and motion acting at close range smothered the sense of fear and in such places one's body takes keen care for safety on its own account how long I remain down there or how I returned I can hardly tell anyhow I had a glorious time and got back to camp about dark enjoying triumph and exhilaration soon followed by dull weariness hereafter I'll try to keep from such extravagant nerve straining places yet such a day is well worth venturing for my first view of the High Sierra first view looking down into Yosemite the death song of Yosemite Creek and its flight over the vast cliff each one of these is of itself enough for a great lifelong landscape fortune a most memorable day of days enjoyment enough to kill if that were possible June 16 my enjoyments yesterday afternoon especially at the head of the fall were too great for good sleep kept starting up last night in a nervous tremor half awake fancying that the foundation of the mountain we were camped on had given way and was falling into Yosemite Valley in vain I aroused myself to make a new beginning for sound sleep the nerve strain had been too great and again and again I dreamed that I was rushing through the air above a glorious avalanche of water and rocks one time springing to my feet I said this time it is real all must die and where could mountaineer find a more glorious death left camp soon after sunrise for an all day ramble eastward cross the head of Indian basin forested with Abbe's Magnifica underbrush mostly Cianothus cordulatus and Manzanita a mixture not easily trampled over or penetrated for the Cianothus's thorny and grows in dense snow pressed masses and the Manzanita has exceedingly crooked stubborn branches from the head of the canyon continued on past North Dome into the basin of Dome or Porcupine Creek there are many fine meadows embedded in the woods gay with Lillian Parvham and its companions the elevation about 8000 feet seems to be best suited for it saw specimens that were a foot or two higher than my head had more magnificent views of the upper mountains and of the great South Dome said to be the grandest rock in the world well it may be since it is of such noble dimensions and sculpture a wonderful impressive monument its lines exquisite in fineness and though sublime in size is finished like the finest work of art and seems to be alive July 17 a new camp was made today in a magnificent silver fur grove at the head of a small stream that flows into Yosemite by way of Indian Canyon here we intended to say several weeks a fine location from which to make excursions about the great valley and its fountains glorious days I'll have sketching pressing plants studying the wonderful topography and the wild animals our happy fellow mortals and neighbours but the vast mountains in the distance shall I ever know them shall I be allowed to enter into their midst and dwell with them we were pelted about noon by a short heavy rainstorm sublime thunder reverberating among the mountains and canyons some strokes near crashing ringing in the tense crisp air with startling keenness while the distant peaks loomed gloriously through the cloud fringes and sheets of rain now the storm is past and the fresh washed air is full of the essences of the flower gardens and groves winter storms in Yosemite must be glorious may I see them I've got my bed made in our new camp plushy, sumptuous and deliciously fragrant most of it, magnificent fur plumes, of course with a variety of sweet flowers in the pillow hoped to sleep tonight without tottering nerve dreams watched a deer eating cyanothus leaves and twigs July 18 slept pretty well the valley walls do not seem to fall though I still fancied myself at the brink along side the white plunging flood especially when half asleep strange the danger of that adventure should be more troublesome now that I am in the bosom of the peaceful woods a mile or more from the fall than it was when I was on the brink of it bears seem to be common here judging by their tracks about noon we had another rainstorm with keen startling thunder the metallic ringing clashing clanging notes gradually fading into low base rolling and muttering in the distance for a few minutes the rain came in a grand torrent like a waterfall then hail some of the hailstones an inch in diameter hard icy and irregular in form like those oftentimes seen in Wisconsin Carlo watched them with intelligent astonishment as they came pelting and thrashing through the quivering branches of the trees the cloud scenery sublime afternoon calm sunful and clear with delicious freshness and fragrance from the furs and flowers and steaming ground July 19 watching the daybreak and sunrise the pale rose and purple sky changing softly to daffodil yellow and white sunbeams pouring through the masses between the peaks and over the Yosemite domes making their edges burn the silver furs in the middle ground catching the glow in their spirey tops and our camp grove fills and thrills with the glorious light everything awakening alert and joyful the birds begin to stir and innumerable insect people deer quietly withdraw into leafy hiding places in the chaparral the dew vanishes flowers spread their petals every pulse beats high every life cell rejoices the very rocks seem to thrill with life the whole landscape glows like a human face in the glory of enthusiasm and the blue sky pale around the horizon bends peacefully down over all like one vast flower about noon as usual big bossy cumulite began to grow above the forest and the rainstorm pouring from them is the most imposing I've yet seen the silvery zigzag lightening glances are longer than usual and the thunder gloriously impressive keen, crashing, intensely concentrated speaking with such tremendous energy it would seem that an entire mountain is being shattered at every stroke but probably only a few trees are being shattered many of which I've seen on my walks hereabouts, strewing the ground at last the clear ringing strokes are succeeded by deep, low tones that grow gradually fainter as they roll afar into the recesses of the echoing mountains where they seem to be welcomed home then another and another peel or rather crashing, splintering stroke follows in quick succession perchance splitting some giant pine or fir from top to bottom into long rails and slivers and scattering them to all points of the compass now comes the rain with corresponding extravagant grandeur covering the ground, high and low, with a sheet of flowing water a transparent film fitted like a skin on the rugged anatomy of the landscape making the rocks glitter and glow gathering in the ravines flooding the streams and making them shout and boom in reply to the thunder how interesting to trace the history of a single raindrop it is not long geologically speaking as we have seen since the first raindrops fell on the newborn leafless Sierra landscapes how different the lot of these falling now happy the showers that fall on so fair a wilderness scarce a single drop can fail to find a beautiful spot on the tops of the peaks on the shining glacier pavements on the great smooth domes on forests and gardens and brushy moraines plashing, glinting, pattering, laving some go to the high snowy fountains to swell their well-saved stores some into the lakes, washing the mountain windows patting their smooth glassy levels making dimples and bubbles and spray some into the waterfalls and cascades as if eager to join in their dance and song and beat their foam yet finer good luck and good work for the happy mountain raindrops each one of them a high waterfall in itself descending from the cliffs and hollows of the clouds to the cliffs and hollows of the rocks out of the sky thunder into the thunder of the falling rivers some falling on meadows and bogs creep silently out of sight to the grass roots hiding softly as in a nest slipping, oozing, hither, thither seeking and finding their appointed work some descending through the spires of the woods sift spray through the shining needles whispering peace and good cheer to each one of them some drops with happy aim glint on the sides of crystals quartz, hornblend, garnet, zircon, tourmaline, feldspar patter on grains of gold and heavy way-worn nuggets some with blunt, plop-plop on low base drumming fall on the broad leaves of veratrums, saxophrage, sypropendium some happy drops fall straight into the cups of flowers kissing the lips of lilies how far they have to go how many cups to fill, great and small sales too small to be seen cups holding half a drop as well as lake basins between the hills each replenished with equal care every drop in all the blessed throng a silvery newborn star with lake and river garden and grove, valley and mountain all that the landscape holds reflected in its crystal depths God's messenger, angel of love sent on its way with majesty and pomp and display of power that make man's greatest shows ridiculous now the storm is over the sky is clear the last rolling thunder-wave is spent on the peaks and where are the raindrops now? what has become of all the shining throng? in winged vapor arising some are already hastening back to the sky some have gone into the plants creeping through invisible doors into the round rooms of cells some are locked in crystals of ice some in rock crystals some in porous moraines to keep their small springs flowing some have gone journeying on in the rivers to join the larger raindrop of the ocean from form to form beauty to beauty ever-changing, never-resting all are speeding on with love's enthusiasm singing with the stars the eternal song of creation End of section 7